A Meal Out with Nate and Elena
by RayneSummer
Summary: Nate and Elena try to have a romantic meal out... but, well, it doesn't end up well. After all, it was a night out with Nathan Drake, and nothing can go right!


**Universe: Uncharted**

 _ **Note:** Thanks to Carrot for the first bit of this story! And for the middle bit! You can tell I did the last bit bc it's another stupid ending, but nevermind, it was a good idea at the time. As always thanks to Carrot for ideas and some writing and inspiration and everything else, and thanks to my cousin Emma just for being awesome and supportive. So here is an otp with a very surprisingly lack of Victor Sullivan! I don't know how I did it, but still, Nate and Elena deserve their own fic bc they are brilliant and adorable and basically best OTP. So yeah, enjoy and review please~ :)_

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"And then the policeman was like, 'you can't film in here' and I was like- Nate are you even listening?"

The treasure hunter in question glanced back at his wife from surveying the restaurant, looking vaguely trouble.

"Yeah, I uh, I think I recognise someone over there," he admitted. Elena blinked at him.

"Oh, should we wave them over? There's no free tables so-"

Nate interrupted, "This isn't a good recognition, if you know what I mean."

Elena took a deep breath and counted to five in her head. "Right. So by recognise you mean he's going to try to kill you," she said.

"Well," Nate shifted uncomfortably, "not specifically me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is he one of Sully's 'old business associates'?"

"Not exactly."

There was a brief pause where Elena looked down at the table and considered how this was not what she would like to be doing on a romantic dinner date out.

"Should we do something?" She asked quietly. Nate scoffed and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Like what, invite him over for a nice chat?" he muttered in reply.

"I meant call the police; you know, like normal people would do if they saw a criminal."

"And tell them your husband suspects there's a robber about because he met him once while robbing the Tate Modern?"

Elena frowned, arguably mildly impressed. "When have YOU been to the Tate Modern?"

"Um, Elena? Priorities?"

"Right." She inconspicuously scanned the room full of people eating for any disturbances before Nate coughed quietly and she looked back at him expectantly.

"Also, you know, robbing it? Like I had already mentioned."

She made a vaguely interested hum of agreement as she tried to remember if her gun was in her handbag tonight.

"Haven't told you all my stories," Nate added, "gotta keep the magic alive sometimes."

Elena gave him what he internally called a 'stern teacher look'.

"Um, Nate?" She whispered sarcastically, "Priorities?"

He sighed and leant back in his chair, pushing it onto its two back legs, and looked as unsuspiciously as he could (which wasn't very inconspicuous) over at the guy he thought he recognised. There was something about him which warned Nate of imminent danger, and he felt very uncomfortable with his wife in the possible firing line.

"Maybe we should-" Elena began as Nate glanced back at her, but typically that was the moment that the guy decided to act.

"EVERYONE ON YOUR KNEES," he yelled, standing up and knocking over his chair at the same time as kicking over the table he was at. He brandished a revolver at the people closest to him, who screamed and practically fell to their knees, with mostly everyone else in the restaurant following them.

The clerk at the till visibly shook as the guy pointed the revolver straight at her. He beckoned to the right with the gun and the poor woman stepped away from the till, her face white with fear.

"To your knees," the man repeated dangerous, and the clerk shakily knelt, putting her hands on her head automatically. Nate felt very sorry for her and that, more than anything, prompted him to speak up.

He stood up and cleared his throat while Elena, who stay kneeling on the floor, stared at him as though he had gone insane.

"Hey, Marcus! Why don't you just grab some cash and leave, huh? Nothing else needs to happen," Nate called across the room.

The man, who Nate now definitely recognised as a chap called Marcus who he had once encountered in the Tate Modern - where they were both trying to steal the same painting, but Nate had got there first, met the guy, pistol whipped him in sort-of greeting, and left while he was still getting up with a bloody nose; which resulted in him getting caught a couple of days later, since the police identified the drops of blood on the floor of the missing painting's room as being Marcus'; at any rate, the guy was not very happy to see the man who stole his painting right out from in front of him once.

He paused in opening the till and looked up at Nate's shout, narrowing his eyes as he recognised the treasure hunter. "You," he growled, to which Nate held up his hands in front of him in a calming gesture.

"Well, you know, we all have our day, and actually today was really going to be a quiet day for me and-"

"SHUT UP," Marcus yelled at him, waving the gun at Nate in more of a 'hello' gesture than a threatening manner. But since pointing this out could probably result in him getting shot, Nate chose to keep his mouth shut for the time being.

In the tense silence of the restaurant, Marcus huffed in anger for a moment before raiding the rest of the till and closing it with the signature 'ding', which Nate took to mean he could speak again, although the fact that the guy was now storming towards him sort of spurred him on to defend himself before he could get hit.

"Now, listen, I would love to have a chat but I'm sure you've got to be going, I mean, you weren't exactly quiet in telling everyone to shut up now, were you, I mean, you've probably got other things on your mind, sure, but you could just leave now and-"

Nate was cut off by Marcus slamming him across his face with the revolver. He fell to all fours with a gasp of pain and gently touched his nose, drawing his hand back to see blood dripping on it.

"Well, I probably deserved that," he muttered, a little muffled because of his broken nose; but Elena heard him just fine, since she was kneeling next to him anyway, and she just sighed deeply and handed him a tissue from her pocket while Marcus ranted above them.

"It WAS you! You once took that goddamn painting from me, do you KNOW how much that 'Explosion of Farago' was WORTH, you little SHIT?" Marcus shouted in anger, addressing his words more to the terrified couple that were seated next to Nate and Elena that actually to Nate.

He coughed, trying to get the taste of blood from his mouth, before looking up at the revolver that was now pointed at him. "Well, not really, since I wasn't the one selling it," he replied truthfully.

The guy, Marcus, shot a nearby table, causing a mother and daughter who had been sitting at it to scream in terror. With that distraction, a waiter that was close to the door suddenly shot up and bolted out the restaurant. Marcus fired at him, but the guy managed to get out; the bullet shattered the window next to the door, and shattered glass rained down on the guy as he ran by outside.

Marcus growled in anger and frustration and checked his watch; as any criminal, he knew there was a maximum of five or ten minutes before the police showed up in response to the gunshots, and with the guy having escaped, Marcus knew he didn't have much time at all.

He turned back to Nate with a growl, who was dabbing his nose with the tissue and sniffing quietly. Elena, for her part, had sat down on the floor, which was more comfortable than kneeling, and was carefully reaching for her handbag and really hoping her gun was in there.

"I can't believe he couldn't have waited until we'd finished desert before this, now anything I eat is just going to taste like blood," Nate muttered.

"Nate," Elena hissed, "PRIORITIES?"

"It was a really nice brownie though..."

"SHUT UP," Marcus yelled again, mostly for his benefit because he didn't understand how that goddamn robber and his lady friend weren't cowering in fear like the rest of the population of the restaurant. Instead they were just chatting like they did this every other Sunday and to be honest, Marcus felt rather put out by this display of plain ignorant behaviour, and rather furious that that goddamn Nate guy wasn't even scared of him.

"YOU TWO," he shouted, "PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEADS." Nate sniffed again and squinted up at him.

"Would you mind if I finished my brownie first?" He looked longingly at the plate on his table. Marcus kicked the table over and the desert splattered all over the floor, the plate smashing on top of it.

Nate blinked at him. "Well that was a bit uncalled for," he commented. Marcus grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and hauled him up, jabbing the revolver at his chest in an attempt to make a point.

"Listen here, you little shit," he growled, "if I had-"

"A treasure map?" Nate interrupted. Marcus narrowed his eyes at him, but was listening. "Because I have one," he continued, "in my jacket pocket."

Elena, on the floor, who was only half listening, frowned to herself as she quietly fiddled about with the clasp of her handbag, trying to open it behind her back.

"Yeah, there's this-" Nate tried to explain, but was once again cut off by the guy.

"Shut up," Marcus grunted. Nate sensibly kept his mouth shut as the guy searched his left pocket. But as Marcus turned to look in the other jacket pocket, Nate rammed his knee up, catching the guy's chin, and shoved him away from him.

At the same time, Elena found her gun, which was thankfully in her handbag, and sprang up, moving to stand beside Nate and pointing the handgun at Marcus.

She fired a warning shot over the guy's head, causing him to drop his revolver in light of the blow to him face and a gunshot ringing out. Nate carefully kicked the gun away from Marcus; it slid over to the cashier, who grabbed it and bravely stood up, pointing it at its former owner.

"I think it's time for you to leave," Nate remarked, nodding at the clerk, who, despite the tears staining her face, looked very determined. Marcus blinked and looked stupidly behind him to see what Nate was looking at; so Elena took this opportunity to kick the guy's legs out from under him and punch him in the face, sending him crashing to the ground in pain.

"It's not been nice, Marcus," Nate said consendingly, looking down at the guy on the floor groaning in pain. "But never mind. I can have brownie at home."

He straightened up and glanced at Elena, understanding flowing between them, and she nodded, holstering her gun in her belt.

"We've got to run," she said quickly as sirens grew louder outside. "You'll be okay now," she added to the clerk, who looked up in wonder as Nate and Elena backed away and hurried out through the kitchens to the back door.

The clerk swallowed and determinedly stepped forward towards the thug on the floor, pointing the gun and waited for the police as sobbing filled the ruined restaurant from various traumatised patrons.

Nate kicked open the emergency exit and they headed out, Elena slamming the doors shut after them before hurrying along the back alley after her husband and edging carefully around the police line that was being set up around the restaurant, then running for the car two blocks away once they were clear of the place.

Nate leant against the car as Elena rummaged for the keys in her handbag, and groaned, tilting his head back to look at the darkening sky. It was a beautiful Florida evening, but their nice meal out had been more than slightly marred by an 'old business associate', as Sully liked to say. He smiled wryly at himself as he sniffed, still tasting blood in his mouth.

"Head down, Nate, how many times," Elena reminded him, lightly hitting him on the back of the head. He sighed, complying as he ducked into the passenger seat, while Elena headed around the other side of the car to drive.

She took a deep breath and looked at Nate with exasperated fondness before she started the car and took them away from their ruined evening.

"Never mind," she said with a smile, glancing at her husband, "it wouldn't be an evening out with Nathan Drake unless we've been shot at."

Nate groaned again theatrically, and relaxed back in his seat, looking out the window with his own smile. Elena was right and anyway, there weren't that many stories that Sully didn't know; now they had another to add to their collection.


End file.
